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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085967">Operating Philosophy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrittlePrince/pseuds/PrittlePrince'>PrittlePrince</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mark Lee is Very Powerful, Office AU, Office Romance, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Spitting (brief)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:34:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrittlePrince/pseuds/PrittlePrince</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Time comes to almost a complete stop. For someone used to navigating mortifying conversations with Mark, Jungwoo is wholly unprepared for this grenade. </p><p>He closes his eyes against the shame that floods his body. His chest aches.</p><p>Cruelly, Mark continues, but his tone is soft.</p><p>“You whispered my name,” he says, his own voice hushed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Jungwoo/Mark Lee (NCT)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world is a bright flash before him; cars illuminated under neon signs and traffic lights, all glimmering under a torrent of rain. </p><p>Blue, purple, red. </p><p>Traffic stops and starts in the street— barely moving an inch, and cars are packed so tightly that pedestrians weave in between them to cross the street. Eyes wide and wondering, Jungwoo watches a sea of umbrellas.</p><p>He knows that outdoors is a cacophony of car horns and heels on pavement and the hush of rain above all the rest. </p><p>He knows that behind where he sits at the window-facing bar, the rest of the restaurant is a din of excited lunchtime chatter and clinking glasses and plates.</p><p>Despite this, all he hears are the mellow tones that drift from his simple blue earbuds. He lets his mind slip from quietly contemplative to blessedly blank, watching as the outside world passes in a blur.</p><p>For him, the ability to find calm in the middle of the workday is wildly underrated. It’s just so much, in the city. Noisy and bright. Not terrible, but sometimes a little more than he’s built to handle. He longs for the moments when the world feels like it’s only him and a hot mug of coffee, a good blanket, a good movie— the city a muted, distant murmur as he lays in a nest of quiet.</p><p>He loves to watch the street when he takes lunch, loves to watch people. Especially today when the crowd traversing the sidewalk are draped in rich fall colours against the grey of the skies.</p><p>Just as he is thumbing a few sandwich crumbs from his mouth, a taxi eases to a stop in front of the restaurant and it’s as though time begins to slow. He can’t say that there is anything remarkable about the cab and yet, it draws his attention.</p><p>The gray torrent of rain blurs and Jungwoo is rapt in his attention as the taxi door eases open. A polished oxford splashes into a puddle as the passenger rises gracefully from the car.</p><p>Has the street gone empty? It’s a little hard to tell as Mark Lee stands tall, cracking open a folded newspaper with a jolt of his wrist, and raising it above his head. His strides are long and measured across the pavement and he becomes the only thing worth looking at. A royal blue blazer whips back at his sides as he walks and Jungwoo frets, somewhere inside, at the idea of Mark’s white button-up, wet with rain.</p><p>Expression light and unaffected, Mark hurries towards the building entrance and out of sight, and Jungwoo downloads the memory to review later. Mark Lee, effortlessly perfect, the sun that warms Jungwoo’s cheeks.</p><p>Swallowing, he catches up, noting Mark’s absence from his line of sight. Time speeds back up as the street fills again with people yelling and cars honking—</p><p>“Hey,” voice gentle, unassuming, cutting through the sudden wall of sound.</p><p>Jungwoo turns and Mark is beside him, one blue earbud suspended between them and a rueful smile curling his mouth. Despite the rush of noise, all Jungwoo can focus on is the one shivering droplet of water that clings to a curl of black hair at Mark’s temple.</p><p>“Hey,” he mirrors, and Mark’s smile is breathtakingly easy and brilliant. He is Jungwoo’s calm.</p><p>Jungwoo remembers to breathe, and forces his eyes down as Mark pulls up a stool. The corners of his own mouth unconsciously curl, Mark's smile imprinted on his own heart. He wraps his earbuds and sticks them in his messenger bag, pushing his empty plate out of the way so he can lean on his elbow and face Mark. He’s already beginning to excitedly babble about the meeting he’s just come from, and Jungwoo falls into step in the conversation, tuned to Mark like a satellite dish.</p><p>He stares openly, because Mark rarely notices when he gets like this. It’s rather a plus, to already be spellbound whenever Mark pauses in his tale to take in Jungwoo’s reaction to a particularly thrilling factoid. Jungwoo is already reeled in, nodding.</p><p>“Unbelievable,” he breathes, and Mark is pink-faced when he grins, distractedly slapping his own thigh with the wet newspaper. Jungwoo stares at that too. </p><p>For him, every little thing Mark does is a lot to take in, and he tries not to miss a single, perfect detail. It feels sometimes like his heart beats just for Mark, because it always reminds Jungwoo if it’s presence whenever Mark is around.</p><p>He’s near-compulsive in his obsession but he’s self-aware enough to feel guilty. Mark deserves better than to be urged up onto a pedestal he has no business being on, but every time Jungwoo searches inside his heart for some wrong Mark has committed, he comes up empty-handed. To Jungwoo— in every small, unassuming thing he does, Mark is perfect.</p><p>He’s aware of how every fibre of Mark’s suit has earned its place, pressed up against his skin, warmed by him. He knows he ought not be aware of it, ought not think about it. </p><p>He’s dreaming on this when Mark closes the short distance between them and snags the slice of pickle left on the empty plate. He pops it into his mouth and Jungwoo swallows down the tension his sudden closeness brings.</p><p>It's not just Mark’s boldness, and his complete lack of respect for Jungwoo’s personal space that rackets up his blood pressure. The familiarity, Jungwoo thinks, is what makes his heart twist.</p><p>"What?" Mark says when he spies the look on Jungwoo's face. "You never eat it, anyway."</p><p><i>Because you always do</i>, Jungwoo thinks, terribly fond. He wrestles his expression into something half-way natural.</p><p>"Maybe you just get to it first," he complains lightly, but Mark's good humour doesn’t wane under the tease.</p><p>"Then you'll have to be faster," he whispers, conspiratorial, as though it's a secret between them. And in the brief moment where their heads are bent together, Jungwoo smells the traces of Mark's cologne wafting up from where his body warms his shirt and decides resolutely that lunch is over.</p><p>"Gotta go," he murmurs, leaning back and gathering his messenger bag off of the bar. Mark pouts.</p><p>"Ahh, really? I thought you didn’t have a meeting until—" he checks his watch. "One? It's not even quarter-to."</p><p>Jungwoo nods, searching for some semblance of normalcy as he slips out of Mark’s clutches. Refuses to acknowledge the warmth that blooms in his stomach, knowing that Mark checks his availability in his calendar whenever he pleases. It’s not normal- is it?</p><p>"I need to prep— it's my delivery." Jungwoo explains. It's not a lie, but it is unnecessary. He’s always confident with his presentation skills. Mark knows this, too, but says nothing, and that’s the real mark of their friendship. How often Mark lets Jungwoo lie to his face without complaint.</p><p><i>You deserve better</i>, Jungwoo thinks again, guilt-ridden as he rises from the stool and faces Mark for a goodbye. Looking at him is like staring into the sun, so breathtaking is the glimmer of mirth in his eyes.</p><p>"But I was wondering if you wanted to play Overwatch tonight?" He covers, in an effort to rinse Mark's face of solemn disappointment. The effect is immediate, and he lights up. Jungwoo is flooded with relief. It's their cycle.</p><p>Mark lifts his hand for a high-five and Jungwoo nearly fumbles it, unprepared. Unapologetically perfect, Mark only grins and twines their fingers together— squeezing. Nothing is a big deal. Ever. It’s always easy.</p><p>Their hands drift apart, and Jungwoo’s chest hurts.</p><p>"See ya," Mark waves and Jungwoo begins meandering his way out of the restaurant, side-stepping waiters. </p><p>He crosses the hallway and as he calls an elevator, he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Mark at the far end of the restaurant. </p><p>Barely visible between the entrance and a column, he leans down and sucks Jungwoo’s straw into his mouth. He swallows down the few remaining mouthfuls of peach iced tea Jungwoo had left behind, and Jungwoo’s mouth goes dry like the sahara as a bell announces the arrival of the elevator.</p><p>It’s not just the perfect slow-motion rewind of Mark leaning forward with his jaw lax to fasten his lips around the straw, or the way his eyes close as he sucks and swallows the first gulp back, it’s the <i>intimacy</i>. Again. </p><p><i>My straw</i>, he thinks. Like it means anything. <i>Mine</i>. He feels feverish. </p><p>It’s the way Mark could have been packing up for his own afternoon meetings, or could have been fucking around on his phone, or could have been simply <i>gone</i>, but instead had remained, and perhaps, just maybe, had thought about Jungwoo when he’d reached for his glass.</p><p>Jungwoo burns hot with the idea of it.</p><p>The elevator doors shut with a<i>snk</i> and Jungwoo shivers. He’s fucked.</p><p>-</p><p>Mark’s office is warm hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows and a sleepy english bulldog that snores softly by a long glass desk. </p><p>It’s sunny, and dotted with works of art along one exposed brick wall. Most breathtaking is Mark, sitting at his desk, his legs crossed at the ankle. A vision. It’s one of the reasons Jungwoo makes a general rule of refusing Mark’s invites, even though he gets away with saying no less than half the time.</p><p>Right now he’s sat opposite, waiting patiently as Mark wraps up a meeting over the phone. He keeps glancing up, rolling his eyes dramatically as Jungwoo smiles into his hand and pats Mustard’s butt as she snores softly at his feet.</p><p>Even though his heart beats too-hard as he watches Mark twirl his headphone cord around his finger, he feels decidedly content. </p><p>“I’ve already sent you the invite for next week— do you see it?” A pause, and Mark grins at him again, tapping his fingers impatiently along his desk. “Okay— good. I’m going to let you go now. I’m back to back today. Okay… you too. See ya.” </p><p>Jungwoo leans on his hand, gaze wandering past Mark out towards the city. It’s beautifully sunny today. Either that, or maybe it always looks sunny from up here. Blue skies, fluffy, drifting clouds. Perhaps it doesn’t rain on the fortieth floor.</p><p>“Don’t disappear on me now,” Mark chides, closing his laptop and sliding something into Jungwoo’s periphery. It’s a checkered paper bag filled with what Jungwoo knows is some of the best bao in the city. His mouth waters.</p><p>“Oh my god, Markie.” Jungwoo covers his face with his hands and groans. “You just get me, dude.”</p><p>Mark puffs up with obvious pride, and Jungwoo loves it when he does, so he lays it on thick.</p><p>“I know I do, but also— if I’d known you were going to react this way I wouldn’t have apologized for being late on my call. Still...” he breaks into a laugh as Jungwoo makes grabby hands. He tears into the bag and places a couple wrapped bao within Jungwoo’s reach.</p><p>Busying himself with unwrapping his steamed bun, Jungwoo tries not to stare when Mark unbuttons his shirt at the wrists and rolls the cotton back up off of his forearms.</p><p>“What’s the occasion?” He wonders aloud, finally taking a first bite and <i>melting</i>. Mark’s always known how to feed him, and he won’t pretend that doesn’t occupy a very large portion of the ‘Why I Love Mark’ piechart. </p><p>His attempts to get them spending more and more lunches together lately are noted but Jungwoo refuses to read too far into it. Entertaining his own desires is a dangerous idea, especially when he has to get up every day to resist Mark not only at <i>work</i>, but over social media, over lunch, over dinner, over video games, sometimes.</p><p>Their constant orbit around one another doesn’t go unnoticed by their colleagues, who aren’t used to seeing marketing and accounting playing nice. They have a couple-name at the office, and it’s just a fun little work joke that Jungwoo doesn’t think about because he’d rather enjoy whatever they have than risk even a shred of it for something more.</p><p>He thinks of this as he stares at the framed picture of the two of them from the Christmas party, the only decoration on the sterile desk besides a small succulent in a ceramic pot. The picture shines back at him, always able to catch his eye, to remind him of that night; the heat of Mark’s body near his on the fringes of a dance floor, the smell of him— whisky, cologne, powdered sugar on Mark’s fingers. Dizzying.</p><p>“You don’t know?” Mark asks, and Jungwoo glances up from the picture with his eyebrows raised. He can’t remember what he’s asked. Mark’s look of confusion melts easily into a grin again.</p><p>He likes that— how easily Mark smiles when their eyes meet. He doesn’t think about the way Mark’s eyes skirt across his lips before jumping back up.</p><p>“No,” Jungwoo murmurs, after he swallows. “Am I supposed to? Oh god— I feel bad now. What is it?” He licks sauce from his fingers, mortified at the prospect of apologizing with saucy hands. </p><p>Mark openly laughs, holding his own chest as he shakes with laughter. Prickling with embarrassment, Jungwoo’s face heats.</p><p>“You’re seriously the worst. Why do you do this to me?” Jungwoo whines, pushing away his food and crossing his arms in mock petulance. </p><p>Thankfully, Mark doesn’t let him suffer long.</p><p>“It’s your work anniversary!” Mark says, raising his own steamed bun as though to cheers. </p><p>Jungwoo stares at him, a smile of realization slowly spreading across his face.</p><p>“Are you serious?” His heart lurches a little. “I had completely forgotten.”</p><p>Jungwoo brings his own bun up to give Mark a small bao-cheers and they both bite into their food. Flavour spreads sinful over his tongue and Mark moans around his first mouthful, eyes closing in delight. Jungwoo feels how his body responds to the sound and he shuts his eyes as well, willing away persistent, stirring thoughts.</p><p>He wonders if Mark knows. </p><p>He’s got to, right? He has to know what he does to Jungwoo with every touch and every sigh and every blinding smile. </p><p>Regardless of whether he does or he doesn’t— Jungwoo still feels a hot flood of shame at the way he reacts to Mark swallowing around a too-big mouthful of food. </p><p>It’s horrible, how his mind ceases to rest, racing.</p><p>Mark draws Jungwoo from his thoughts by wiggling his fingers in front of his face. His blinks back, embarrassed, and Mark tilts his head. He doesn’t say anything about how Jungwoo keeps drifting today— lost in daydreams and memories. Another reason Jungwoo’s heart pangs for him; his patience, his tolerance.</p><p>“Happy anniversary,” he says, and Jungwoo gulps, because there’s something about the way Mark says it. Quietly. Like a secret.</p><p>“Thank you. Ha— I can’t believe I forgot. That really snuck up. You’re such a sucker for doing this.” He levels Mark with a teasing grin and leans forward. Mark mirrors him unconsciously.</p><p>“One year and I’ve already got you buying me lunch. Watch out. What happens on my ten year anniversary, hmm? Will you buy me a house?” Jungwoo sticks his tongue out and Mark makes a thoughtful sound.</p><p>The sound replays in Jungwoo’s mind, and he tears a small piece of bun off and lets his arm drop beneath the table. He hears the dog before he sees her, and Mark rolls his eyes as she noisily eats a piece of bao from Jungwoo’s fingers.</p><p>“Oh my god would you <i>stop</i> doing that? Do you have any idea how farty that makes her later?”</p><p>“Yes, I am completely aware,” Jungwoo intones, chuckling as he pulls his second bao close and peels back the paper. “Why else would you name her Mustard?”</p><p>They laugh easily and Mark doesn’t bring the conversation back around to his ‘anniversary’ and Jungwoo is grateful because it’s theirs, too, in a way, but Jungwoo can’t imagine sharing his thoughts on that. It’s been one year since Jungwoo met Mark. One year since Mark first smiled at him, shook his hand, and stuck a pin in his heart.</p><p>“Hey,” Mark says, pulling him out of yet another daze. Again, he doesn’t comment, but there is a paper-thin line of concern between his brows. Jungwoo hates that he’s the cause.</p><p>“Play Overwatch with me again tonight?” Mark presses. If Jungwoo looks closely enough, he’ll see very little room to argue.</p><p>“Of course, Markie.”</p><p>-</p><p>It takes a truly filthy act for Jungwoo to realize he’s fallen too far.</p><p>
  <i>Don’t forget to dress up today ;)</i>
</p><p>He stares blearily at the early morning text from Mark. He’s already slept through his first alarm, and Mark’s message reminds him of why he’d set an earlier one in the first place. Visit from the higher-ups today.</p><p>He’s ready to launch himself out from under the covers when another message comes through— a quick bathroom mirror selfie. Mark grins at him through the screen and like a house of cards, Jungwoo’s resolve crumbles as he slips further under the covers. </p><p>He trails his own fingertips under the wrinkled hem of his T-shirt and along the stretch of his abdomen, and heat curls wicked in his gut. He imagines slowly unbuttoning and parting Mark’s starched white button-up and that’s when he knows: he has far too much access to far too <i>much</i> of Mark in his day-to-day life. </p><p>The shame he feels simply looking at an innocent selfie gives him a reality check: Mark is his friend. His coworker. When Jungwoo goes to work and he’s <i>happy</i>, it’s because of Mark. </p><p>The way his body longs for him like Mark is a drug. Seeing him is like a quick hit, and Jungwoo thrives under the constant attention, seeing Mark’s grin turned his way. And Mark really likes him too, Jungwoo knows, cherishes their friendship. If Jungwoo does something stupid and risks it all, he’s not just ruining something for himself, he’s ruining something good and <i>real</i> for both of them.</p><p>Imagining trying to remove any part of Mark from his life seems like removing a substantial, vital piece of him, even though Jungwoo knows he has to start putting more manageable distance between them. The trouble is that Mark is always at the other end of his phone, always just a lunch date or email away. Just one selfie away from Jungwoo chasing his pleasure through an unexpected morning erection while Mark’s name tumbles from his lips.</p><p>Determined, he begins checking his phone less often and tries to focus on work. </p><p>It’s misery not responding to each of Mark’s texts, and his days drag long. Predictably, work is too boring to hold his attention the way he needs it to, as a distraction. Whats worse, his coworkers notice his tension. They notice the absence of his phone on his desk, the way he works through lunch, snacking instead of finding Mark, or running out for a quick bite to eat.</p><p>Jungwoo worries about his own self-control but it does nothing to prepare him for how Mark reacts. The minor social media break barely lasts two days. Annoyed after being seemingly ignored, Mark begins to ping him over email, even going so far as to send him a meeting invite in his work calendar for a “Lunch Date”. </p><p>Jungwoo hesitates with his cursor perched over the Send button for far longer than he’d like to admit before he declines, citing a last minute project meeting. It hurts to do it.</p><p>It feels like a betrayal. On top of that, he misses Mark dearly, and feels guilty that he hasn’t explained why he’s drawing away. Still, he knows he has to hold fast to his decision if there's any hope to salvage their relationship. He responds to each of Mark’s messages when he can, trying to keep him topped up on funny memes through text, or emphatic promises to definitely get together soon… as soon as Jungwoo is finished with this “busy week”.</p><p>He doesn’t expect the excuse to last long, but he’s still surprised when, after a few gloomy days of this, he returns from break one day to find Mark leaning against his unremarkable cubicle. Mustard snores softly by his crossed ankles and Jungwoo pauses half-way to his desk, caught like a deer in headlights when Mark turns to look at him. </p><p>Mark looks so <i>good</i>. Jungwoo drinks in the sight of him like a starving man. A crisp blue suit, one button undone on the collar of his white button up. His dark hair is more wavy than normal today, and growing a little long in front of his ears. Jungwoo’s heart hurts to think he missed it.</p><p>Mark holds up a folded paper bag from the bougie dumpling place down the street and his smile is sly as Jungwoo approaches.</p><p>He’s playing directly to Jungwoo’s weakness for food, yet again. This is what’s familiar. This is their every-day. Jungwoo notes he doesn’t wear a look of hurt or anger, which was what he had feared the most. He can’t ignore the relief that washes through his body to see his best friend’s perfect, warm smile turned his way, devoid of judgement.</p><p>"Lunch?" He asks, and he might as well have purred it for the way Jungwoo's heart lurches.</p><p>His coworkers are peering over the tops of their cubicles but Mark doesn’t notice the attention he’s garnered from the rest of the office. They're not used to a visitor from marketing, and especially not one with a dog. Despite their infamous friendship, Jungwoo’s discouraged Mark from visiting enough times that his presence is a rare treat. It's for this reason exactly that Jungwoo doesn't invite him down. They’ve got groupies.</p><p>Mark shakes the bag again when he spies Jungwoo’s far-away look, drawing him back in. He can’t help but blush under the scrutiny. He feels lost— untethered. Whatever he’s tried for the last few days isn’t manageable.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says belatedly. He’s really been missing Mark terribly. </p><p>“Good,” Mark says, matter of fact, and it sounds like a statement, an agreement about more than just lunch. Jungwoo can hardly disagree. </p><p>Mark makes himself at home, settling on Jungwoo’s desk until his back hits the cubicle wall. He ignores everyone’s stares as he ushers Jungwoo to sit. </p><p>“These are new on their menu,” Mark begins, pulling containers from the paper bag and setting them out with sauce and chopsticks. Like it’s nothing. Jungwoo slips into his office chair and stares up at him, chest thumping painfully.</p><p>-</p><p>When he accepts that he can’t avoid Mark's hauntingly beautiful smile at work, Jungwoo begins a social media blackout and sticks to hot baths and reading books and going to bed early. It’s peaceful.</p><p>Physical detachment from Mark had been a mistake, and had hurt them both. He knows Mark felt relief that day too, to see him, as well as no small amount of annoyance— for his behaviour, for the lack of explanation. </p><p>So he resolves to give Mark his best self at work. He tells him he wants to stop being on his phone so much after work, and that’s why he’s not online later in the evenings. Mark pouts— he hates it immediately. Another bold-faced lie that Jungwoo feeds him and Mark accepts, smile faltering just slightly.</p><p>“What are you even doing?” He whines one day, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungwoo in the elevator after an exhausting day of back to back meetings. </p><p>Jungwoo laughs, sliding his fingers into the soft, dark strands of hair growing long and wavy at the back of Mark’s crown. He gives them a little shake, and Mark barely cracks a smile, still put-out. He appears resolute to make Jungwoo suffer.</p><p>“I cook. Read. Do skincare. Take a bath… you know… self-care kind of stuff I guess.” </p><p>Mark huffs, and turns, leaning his chin against Jungwoo’s shoulder.</p><p>“You could be hanging with <i>me</i>, though. That’s self-care.” </p><p>Jungwoo can’t believe how sullen Mark sounds, how he presses against his side. He’s not taking it well, that’s for sure. There's the bright burn of shame again, because Jungwoo knows he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand why Jungwoo is playing recklessly with their friendship. That he doesn’t know why he’s looking for something that works, why what they have now <i>doesn’t</i>. </p><p>So begins the first of a string of bruises to Jungwoo’s resolve. Mark isn’t mean by any stretch of the imagination— that’s not him. Instead, he begins to act a little bossy.</p><p>He talks more, gesticulates more, draws Jungwoo’s attention with every move he makes. He guides him when they walk, with a hand at his elbow, or the small of his back. He makes decisions about where they’ll go for lunch, and instead of asking where Jungwoo wants to go he’ll say: “You’re fighting off a cold. We’re going out for TomYum today.”</p><p>Pushy. </p><p>Jungwoo doesn’t mind. He never disagrees. Mark knows him better than he knows himself. He knows when Jungwoo needs to escape his cubicle for a few blessed moments of peace, napping on the couch in Mark’s office at 2PM. He knows when Jungwoo needs a coffee, or a spark of positivity in the form of a funny, cute email.</p><p>So intimate. So familiar. At work, Jungwoo can do nothing but go along for the ride, chest always tight with longing, but he can survive it. It can work. He remains resolute, putting his phone away when he steps into his apartment each night. He checks it periodically, to make sure he’s not missing anything critical. Mark still texts him, hopeful that maybe he can wheel Jungwoo back in. If only Mark knew how tempting it was to respond to each and every one of them.</p><p>Unexpectedly, he notices a few benefits to his social media blackout, even if he has to shoulder a bit of Mark’s ire. </p><p>He puts more work into his diet and his skin care, and he feels more energetic each and every day. He actually goes to the gym, and it shows. He’s a bit more talkative, more sure of himself. He laughs easily, but it’s not hard when Mark can make him smile with the smallest of things. He likes coming to work, even if he still daydreams about lunch dates with Mark.</p><p>He has to go shopping when his chest starts to fill out, and the buttons on his dress shirt begin to strain. When he misses laundry day and has to wear one of his older shirts, Mark stares and stares until finally Jungwoo wrestles his way into a sweater. It’s only then that Mark finally comments.</p><p>“Are you working out?” It’s asked innocently enough but Jungwoo is ashamed to admit he’s hurt that Mark’s only just noticed. </p><p>He nods, and Mark’s face does a thing. He wears a look Jungwoo can’t place.</p><p>“Let me take you shopping,” Mark urges after a moment, leaning over in their shared cab to tug at the front of Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling the gap between closed. Persistently, it stays taught, and Jungwoo flushes at the warmth of Mark’s touch.</p><p>“Sorry— I actually went last weekend. Just missed laundry day and had to dig this out of my closet. I’ll donate it this weekend so I don’t accidentally wear it again.”</p><p>Jungwoo thinks it's a simple enough explanation, but Mark goes deadly quiet for the remainder of the drive, worrying his lip with his teeth as he watches the world pass by outside. </p><p>Something heavy and tangible settles over Jungwoo, a haunting feeling growing in his chest. Mark is mad, and Jungwoo knows why. One more thing in his life that Mark isn’t sharing in. One more example of the distance Jungwoo has carefully cultivated. He usually tries to minimize these moments, but it’s hard when Mark asks so directly.</p><p>He wants to ask what’s wrong, but he knows that’s inviting the very conversation he’s not willing to have. He hates to watch Mark look away from him, eyes focused far away, maybe on something else. On <i>someone</i> else, his mind offers. When will Mark direct his attention onto a more willing subject? What if <i>their</i> friendship blooms into something more? </p><p>In thirty seconds, nothing has even happened, and yet jealousy sings a poisonous song in Jungwoo’s heart. What he once thought was something that might work— now he’s not so sure. The moments they don’t spend together are moments that Mark could be steadily giving up on him, and he wouldn’t even see it coming.</p><p>Not feeling a compulsion to check Instagram and twitter have been a blessing for the last couple weeks. Less opportunities to feel that flare of jealousy, to see Mark post pictures of his food when he goes out with friends. What if he goes out on a date?</p><p>The only thing that breaches the peace is Mark’s increasingly vocal complaints about not being able to text or call Jungwoo after work. He says he wants to wind down sometimes, with him. Chat with him after particularly hard days.</p><p>Mark’s never requested this of him before, and so Jungwoo surmises it’s another punishment for putting space between them. It gets so bad that Jungwoo has to agree to a standing game night on Thursdays, because they <i>both need some kind of release</i>, says Mark.</p><p>It’s an agreement made over a tense walk to the subway station after a late-night work event, and starts with Mark anxiously picking at the hem of his jacket. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Jungwoo agrees to his initial request without thought.</p><p>“Sure—“ Jungwoo murmurs, brows pinched with concern as the rest of the city brushes past them, eager to get home after their long days. To Jungwoo it feels instead like everything has slowed down, and all he can see is the way Mark is biting his lips and staring down at his shoes.</p><p>“It’s like you’re avoiding me. It sucks.” It’s not a pout. It’s not a whine. Mark is serious, and Jungwoo feels it like a punch to the gut.</p><p>Mark admits that he’s been chewing all day on the fact that Jungwoo hasn’t responded to any of his texts and Jungwoo feels shock and guilt like a bath of ice water down his spine. Despite his commitment to protecting their friendship, it’s the first time real worry and guilt have grown hot in his chest. Mark’s pain is an unavoidable, tangible thing. </p><p>He’s been forcing distance between them to preserve what they have, but he isnt stupid enough to sit by and simply watch while Mark needs him. The fact that Mark even has to ask is mortifying. Never mind a potential love interest— Jungwoo knows he’s failed as a friend.</p><p>He resolves to do better, but he doesn’t quite realize what he’s gotten into until that first night. </p><p>On Thursday of that week, Jungwoo gets home and changes into his sweatpants and sets up on the couch for a long, comfortable night. He plugs his headphones into his playstation controller and settles in for hours of Overwatch while Mark’s voice caresses his ears with a constant, benign chatter.</p><p>No filter. No predetermined end in sight. Just hours of mindlessly moving the payload and listening to Mark idly curse under his breath. It ought to be a small nuisance to suffer, but he isn’t prepared for what it does to him, to let his mind work on autopilot while Mark whispers and urges himself on. </p><p>It’s easy banter, innocent enough, and Jungwoo shouldn’t complain, but it feeds his crush in the worst ways. There's really nothing like Mark whispering into his ear like a lover, laughing long and low the later at night it gets. </p><p>By the time midnight rolls around and his living room is only lit by the light from the television, Jungwoo politely reminds Mark that he has to go to bed after the next match. Instead of the fierce competitiveness from before, or even a simple acknowledgment, Mark is only breathy complaints. </p><p>Already more wound up than he’d like to admit, this is Jungwoo’s kryptonite.</p><p>It’s too late at night to fend off the sleepy arousal that coils in his gut. He runs on autopilot to wrap up the last match, moving quickly towards an effortless win as his attention focuses on the sounds Mark makes on the other end of the headset.</p><p>“Fuck - you’re <i>owning</i> me,” Mark complains, voice husky with sleep, and Jungwoo can easily imagine him, blearily staring at his tv with bloodshot eyes as his head lolls heavily towards one shoulder and his grip on the controller loosens.</p><p>“You’re falling asleep,” Jungwoo intones, shifting lower into the couch as his pulse quickens. It’s inexplicable. Innocent. Poor Mark is only tired. Jungwoo takes a steadying breath and re-adjusts in his sweatpants.</p><p>“Well, you’re leaving so what’s it matter anyway?” Mark’s tone is shaped by his pout. </p><p>Jungwoo explains again, but it doesn’t matter. It’s late, and Mark doesn’t care. Jungwoo is tired, but Mark doesn’t <i>care</i>. </p><p>They wrap up the match and Jungwoo says “Sleep well, Markie” and then it’s a mad rush to get Mark off his headset before he’s re-adjusting his semi with a clammy hand. He can’t help it, and his cock surges into the loose shape of his fist over his sweatpants before Mark has even finished his throaty goodbyes. </p><p>He wonders if Mark knows, if Mark would ever be able to tell that Jungwoo gets harder and harder the sleepier he sounds through the headset. How his long, drawn out sighs make Jungwoo feel too close, too soon when he finally exits the game and throws his headset and controller across the couch. He thrusts into his hand weakly, head flopping back on the couch.</p><p>How quickly he comes, whimpering Mark’s name and imagining the soft plumb of his lips over the head of his cock. Imagines pulsing thickly over Mark’s tongue as his lashes cast shadows over his cheeks.</p><p>“Ah— <i>ahhh</i>, Markie—“ Shame floods him, but he can’t stop as he comes across his own fingers, curling in on himself.</p><p>“Fuck...” he whispers into his pillow, sucking in great lungfuls of air as his heart rate slows.</p><p>“<i>Fuck</i>.”<br/>
-</p><p>His thoughts are poison. Forcing distance between them has done little more than deeply aggravate both of them, and Mark is visibly unimpressed with the days of near-ghosting that happen two weekends in a row, both after weeks with game nights. It doesn’t need to happen a third time before Mark calls him on it one morning, in a way Jungwoo can’t avoid.</p><p>On the Monday morning following his second weekend ghosting Mark, Jungwoo dons the stairs to the street from the subway to find Mark poised at the top, basking in the early morning twilight of the city. </p><p>He is, as always, painfully beautiful, but his mouth is set in a grim line, and Jungwoo struggles to swallow past his guilt even as Mark presses a coffee into his hand.</p><p>“You’re upset with me,” he speaks first after a silent few steps of walking side by side. It’s his fault, and he can’t just watch what they have so clearly deteriorate between them. They need to talk about it, even if Jungwoo has to tell him the truth just so Mark will stop hurting. He deserves that, at least.</p><p>Mark scoffs in response, as if to say <i>obviously</i>, and Jungwoo drops his gaze to the sidewalk, effectively admonished.</p><p>It doesn’t become a bigger conversation than that, and Jungwoo doesn’t know what to make of it. In a few split seconds, he’s almost reconciled the idea of outing himself, and now Mark seems fine to let Jungwoo sit on it. That’s his punishment, but it isn’t what Jungwoo was prepared for.</p><p>In lieu of a real conversation, Jungwoo makes a better effort to find a balance between the old days and what he’s aiming for now. Maybe they don’t have to discuss it further, but Jungwoo thinks there’s a lot that’s gone unsaid. Doesn’t Mark wonder why Jungwoo doesn’t respond? Why Mark has to force him to make plans? </p><p>Should Mark <i>have</i> to ask— isn’t Jungwoo a better friend than that?</p><p>He thinks about Mark’s easy smiles, and the way he accepts his own faults and mistakes without too much self-deprecation. How he’s always a good communicator, even though he’s never had the need to beg for the truth in their relationship, until now. And just when Jungwoo thinks he might— he doesn’t. </p><p>He watches Jungwoo lie to him. He stares back at him and watches every moment that Jungwoo doesn’t confess, and he still treats him right.</p><p>Loves him, treats him like a friend.</p><p>Jungwoo hates that he’s put Mark in a spot to have to do that with him now. To have to take care of their relationship because Jungwoo is obviously only capable of lighting it on fire. </p><p>Somehow, his silence on the matter is worse.</p><p>Before, Jungwoo had been in Mark’s thrall and it had been perfect but it had been painful. Because it was easy to watch Mark. To love him. To encourage him. </p><p>Now, he has all of Mark’s attention and it turns out it’s not as easy to be on the recovering end of it. The harder Jungwoo pulls away, the more Mark plucks at his worst fears. Confronts him. Makes Jungwoo own it, just like he deserves to.</p><p>-</p><p><i>Stop ignoring me,</i> Mark texts one saturday, and there isn’t a shred of playfulness in it.</p><p>Stretched out on his couch, Jungwoo bolts upright, staring down at his phone. Drowsy from napping and watching Netflix, the text makes his heart beat a little too fast.</p><p>A hot rush of guilt burns the back of his neck. The agony of it is so much worse, because Mark is <i>good</i>, because Mark is so, so much better than he is.</p><p>He handles the letdowns gracefully when Jungwoo says “Sorry, plans,” more than once a week. The smile rarely falls from his face. Jungwoo wishes it didn’t bother him. </p><p>Mark deserves better. It’s like a mantra in the back of his mind. <i>Mark deserves better</i>.</p><p>Jungwoo stares at the text. His heart clenches. <i>I love him</i>.</p><p>He could confess. Bare it all. Risk one of the rarest and most precious relationships he’s ever had simply because he can’t shake a little crush.</p><p><i>Sorry,</i> he responds, typing whole sentences and erasing them more than once. Mark has read receipts left on - a testament to his trust and commitment. Jungwoo knows Mark is staring at his phone as he types.</p><p>( . . . )</p><p><i>Maybe we should chat about some things,</i> he types, hearing the death knell in his own words. <i>Are you free for lunch?</i> There’s a lightheartedness to his question that doesn’t quite soothe the anxiety that comes from ‘having to talk’.</p><p>
  <i>Read 10:03AM</i>
</p><p>( . . . )</p><p>
  <i>At the office. Bring noodles for dinner @ 6.</i>
</p><p>A whole day to panic. Jungwoo knows he doesn’t deserve any better.</p><p>-</p><p>“I need your help,” is the first thing Mark says when Jungwoo pushes on the glass door to his office and floats in. He feels weightless and dizzy, he’s so nervous. He’s grateful Mark leads, and notes that Mark appears uninterested in the flush building under Jungwoo’s collar. His eyes are trained on something on his laptop.</p><p>“Oh?” Jungwoo responds, voice cracking. He swallows and tells himself to relax.</p><p>Clearing his throat, he sets two bags of takeout on the desk. Mark faces his whiteboard wearing a perplexed look, but he spares Jungwoo a glance from the corner of his eye. </p><p>Jungwoo tries not to act like he’s walking on eggshells. Mark stares at him like he is. Unimpressed.</p><p>He doesn’t respond and the tension in the room must somehow make it harder to walk because Jungwoo’s toe catches on something on the carpet and suddenly his ankles are locked. With an undignified yelp, he catches himself on the chair, shaking off what appears to be a dog collar, discarded on the floor.</p><p>He swallows, face heating. </p><p>“Oh my god,” he whispers, mortified as he falls gracelessly into the soft leather chair and bends to gather the red collar in his hand. He sits back and lays it delicately on the desk, hazarding a glance upwards to find Mark turned in his chair, gaze soft.</p><p>When his jaws ticks with barely contained mirth, Jungwoo lets out a breath, rubbing his hands over his face. Relief.</p><p>Mark’s delayed, yet helpless whoop of laughter extinguishes Jungwoo’s doubt. He breathes, and they both snicker as Mark slaps his own thigh, lost to hysterics. It’s so easy to laugh with him. He’s so glad they still have this.</p><p>When they settle down, Jungwoo watches a conversational gap yawn open like a terrible trap. He braces for the blow, knowing it’s time to fess up. </p><p>What they have is worth more than being too afraid to have this conversation, Jungwoo knows. Mark deserves an apology for his behaviour, and some measure of truth. He knows they have to talk, but his rabbit-heart makes him want to run.</p><p>Mark must be watching the parade of emotions across his face, because he takes pity.</p><p>“Start eating,” He says, spinning his chair back around to fully face the whiteboard next to his desk. “I want to walk you through this project and have you tell me what’s missing. It doesn’t have that… <i>spark</i>. I need your eyes.”</p><p><i>Spark</i>. Jungwoo’s word. It had been one of the first things they’d shared when they’d been forced to work together on an R.O.I for a high-level project. It had been easy to justify the cost of the project in his report, Jungwoo had said, because Mark’s work just held that <i>spark</i>. It spoke for itself.</p><p>Chest tight, Jungwoo hesitates only a second before pulling a box of noodles over and popping it open. <i>Be normal... Be normal…</i></p><p>“Okay,” he says, leaning back in his chair. </p><p>Mark nods and stands to approach the whiteboard, marker in hand. Jungwoo settles in, watching him closely as Mark starts explaining his work. </p><p>In the setting sun that floods the office, in his weekend clothes, Mark is terribly easy to look at.</p><p>He pushes up the sleeves of a bright, fluorescent yellow hoodie and as he reaches to circle something at the top of the whiteboard a pale slice of his lower back makes itself known just above loose, ripped blue jeans. </p><p>Pavlovian, Jungwoo swallows and squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>“Paying attention?” Mark’s voice cuts smoothly through the noise in his brain and Jungwoo sits up straight, gaze focused intently. His own face might be warm, but it’s odd, Jungwoo thinks, how aware of his gaze Mark appears to be.</p><p>“Always,” he promises, expression genuine.</p><p>Mark makes a sound, something like disbelief, and that becomes the only thing Jungwoo is capable of thinking of for the next few minutes. Despite exposed skin calling his gaze, Jungwoo is intent when Mark turns to him, seeking feedback after presenting the final slide. He’s so proud of the work Mark does, of how effortlessly charming he is. How he does his research and is always a step ahead of his audience.</p><p>“It absolutely has that spark - I don’t know how you could have missed it.” Jungwoo wonders aloud, leaning forward to set his untouched noodles on the table.</p><p>He stands, leaning over the desk and gestures to one of the diagrams. Mark’s eyes are unfocused, staring somewhere in the vicinity of Jungwoo’s chest, lost in thought. </p><p>Jungwoo tilts his head, trying to catch his gaze.</p><p>“Great connection here and — this. This is the best bit. Be more proud of it, I know you want to. Just… be a little bit more direct with it.” Their eyes meet, briefly, before he notices how close Mark is. Mark is tall and slender in his own right, but Jungwoo naturally stretches farther, easily leaned across the desk and closer than he intended. Their eyes lock like magnets.</p><p>It’s like watching a house on fire-- Jungwoo can’t help but stare. His eyes dip for the briefest moment, and he catalogues every lush detail; Mark’s lips parted around a half-formed thought, bitten and dark at the centre, like the core of a peach. </p><p>Shining, just barely, with a trace of <i>lipgloss</i>. Oh <i>fuck</i>.</p><p>A voice inside of him starts silently shouting, alarm bells going off even as heat coils wicked and hot in his stomach. </p><p>His eyes shoot back up— wide, wild.</p><p>Mark regards him calmly, eyes slightly red from lack of sleep. There's no emotion in his face. Distantly, perhaps interest. He isn’t shy as his gaze roams over Jungwoo’s face, dancing along the seam of his lips, and back up to his eyes.</p><p>Face aflame, Jungwoo takes first one, then two steps back, easing back into his chair. He straightens his tie— why did he wear a <i>tie</i>?— and looks at the presentation again, getting his bearings.</p><p>Mark crosses his arms, face flushed under his reading glasses as he pointedly eyes the growing distance between them. With an audible sigh, he turns to the display as well. </p><p>“Markie— don’t dumb this down for anybody.” Jungwoo continues, filling the silence, watching Mark nip at the pad of his thumb, expression pensive.</p><p>The grateful smile that tugs at the corners of Mark’s mouth is a lot to process, so Jungwoo re-aquaints himself with his food, eyes downcast. The spell breaks a little, and he finally feels like he can breathe. Mark sits back down opposite, silent and thoughtful. He still has a glow of pride— he trusts Jungwoo’s judgement and so he takes the feedback to heart. But, something clouds his eyes. A memory, maybe.</p><p>Jungwoo is fundamentally aware of how awkward he’s been since he arrived, but he doesn’t know how to turn it off. In the silence that follows his last words, the reason he’s here at all today floats back to the front of his mind.</p><p>Mark fusses with the lid of his takeout, but doesn’t open it. </p><p>Unsure, Jungwoo looks up at him to find Mark is staring back, trouble clouding his face. It’s like electricity, when their eyes lock.</p><p>“Mm-” Jungwoo makes a noise of concern to acknowledge the change in mood, swallowing around a mouthful of noodles as Mark sets his food aside. </p><p>“Markie—“ He finally says, thumbing sauce from the corners of his mouth.</p><p>Hesitating again, Mark stares back, uncertain.</p><p>This is it, Jungwoo thinks.</p><p>“Can I talk to you about something?” Mark says, leaning on the arm of his chair, face in his palm. His food sits at his elbow, ignored.</p><p>“Something difficult?” he continues.</p><p>Compelled, Jungwoo nods.</p><p>With Mark’s softly demanding eyes glittering in the shadows cast across his office, Jungwoo has little choice. The sun is low on the horizon and the room is lit with pinks and oranges and navy blues. The last streaks of warmth catch on the curve of Mark’s jaw as he parts his lips, considering.</p><p>“We were gaming the other night, and something happened.” </p><p>Surprised, Jungwoo is suddenly on his back foot, searching his memory banks.</p><p>“You thought you’d signed off for the night, but your mic was still on...” </p><p>His heart freezes, eyes going wide. He holds up his hands— there’s no need to elaborate. </p><p><i>Mercy</i>.</p><p>Mark ignores him, pressing on.</p><p>“I heard you.” </p><p>The words are like the drop of a guillotine.</p><p>Time comes to almost a complete stop. For someone used to navigating mortifying conversations with Mark, Jungwoo is wholly unprepared for this grenade. </p><p>He closes his eyes against the shame that floods his body. His chest aches.</p><p>Cruelly, Mark continues, but his tone is soft.</p><p>“You whispered my name,” he says, his own voice hushed.</p><p>Jungwoo claws at his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. Is it even worth bothering with an explanation? He knows— and understands— that Mark must feel an incredible sense of betrayal.</p><p>“Don’t be upset, Woo.” </p><p>It’s weird that it’s Mark’s voice next, Jungwoo thinks. It’s <i>his</i> fault. He has to say something, anything.</p><p>It’s not quite a command, but Mark delivers it without much room for questions, and Jungwoo blinks back his nerves. When he dares to look, Mark is standing, beautifully cast in the colour of the setting sun.</p><p>He looks so terribly <i>good</i>, even as Jungwoo tries to breathe through the panic that’s bloomed in his chest like a fire. Hair dark and soft and just a little wavy at his temples, Mark is calm, his hoodie a pastel glow in the dying light. His jeans sit <i>just so</i>— too loose. The slimmest stretch of exposed skin begging for Jungwoo’s touch.</p><p>He watches Jungwoo back, tracking the movement of Jungwoo swallowing down his alarm. </p><p>Mark takes a step, and Jungwoo stiffens in his seat, sitting straighter. The sleeve of Mark’s oversized hoodie trails on the glass as he rounds the desk and then leans back against it, towering before Jungwoo who suddenly feels like there isn’t enough space between the chair and his splayed knees and Mark’s desk.</p><p>“Are you afraid of me?” Mark asks, and the question alone makes Jungwoo’s blood pressure spike. His eyes rake over Jungwoo’s form, and it’s like he’s been set aflame.</p><p>He shakes his head, chin tilted up. Deliriously, the look in Mark’s eyes makes him feel like he’s being eaten alive. He shivers with the threat, fingers gripping the arms of the chairs like claws. </p><p>“No,” he vocalizes, but it’s only a whisper. Still, Mark nods.</p><p>“You whispered my name—“ Mark begins, and Jungwoo blinks back a few sudden tears. Something wrenches free in his chest. He can’t passively watch this happen any longer.</p><p>“—because I <i>like</i> you!” Jungwoo almost chokes. His palm slaps over his own mouth, and his eyes shoot up, locking with Mark’s.</p><p>“I know,” Marks says mildly. “Do you want to know what I like?”</p><p>Jungwoo takes a breath, and stares back at him, mouth agape. He doesn’t know what to say.</p><p>“Yeah,” lamely. Mark smirks at him.</p><p>“I like when you text me cause you’re excited about something you’re working on.”</p><p>Jungwoo stares back, eyebrows pinched in confusion.</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Mark says, inspecting his nails before his eyes rise to Jungwoo again. “But you don’t really do that anymore.”</p><p>Mark really does want him to suffer. He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues.</p><p>“I liked when you’d come up to visit, maybe bring lunch. Maybe just to escape. Maybe to feed my dog when I’m not looking…”</p><p>Heart thudding painfully against his chest, Jungwoo can only sit and accept, watch Mark say it, bare all of Jungwoo’s feelings before them.</p><p>“Sometimes you’d come up just for a nap, and I liked that because it made me think you felt safe with me. That was a feeling… that I cherished.” Mark isn’t looking at him anymore, but Jungwoo needs to see his eyes, needs to understand how he is feeling. “But I’ve been starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t the case anymore… that I wasn’t that person you needed.”</p><p>Jungwoo is blown away.</p><p>“You are,” he insists, sitting up a little straighter. Suddenly it’s all he can do not to pull Mark into his arms. He looks so small, hugging his own stomach, his skinny arms crossed beneath pushed-back sleeves.</p><p>“Will you do what I ask?” Mark continues and his tone is hardened. Jungwoo squeezes his eyes shut. Overload. Too much to process. It all makes so little sense.</p><p>“Oh my <i>god</i>, Mark-”</p><p>“Look at me, please.” And <i>ugh</i>, that voice. There’s no room to argue, just like usual.</p><p>The look on Mark’s face makes heat spread down his neck and disappear into his collar. This time it doesn’t escape Mark’s notice and he tilts his head, expression almost distant.</p><p>“Lately, you’ve annoyed me so much I could strangle you. But…” he unfolds his arms, and his posture is much more open, relaxed. The look he levels at Jungwoo is hard. “I have wanted you so, <i>so</i> badly. For so long…” Tone pained, his gaze remains unwavering. Jungwoo feels pinned to the chair, his throat gone bone-dry.</p><p>“Do you understand that?” A few more darts seem to root Jungwoo ever more firmly into his chair. He hears it, but he can barely believe it. He’s suddenly empty, suspended in disbelief.</p><p>“Yeah.” He nods, again. He barely feels capable of that, he’s so frozen with shock and uncertainty, and distantly, with hope. He’s running on autopilot.</p><p>“If you like me, will you kiss me?”</p><p>
  <i>Will I…?</i>
</p><p>Jungwoo sucks in a breath. </p><p>“Mark...Yes,” he says, urgent and shaking.</p><p>“Then come here, because I’m <i>dying</i>.” And how Mark can be so effortlessly commanding even without his suit or his styled hair is a testament to the complete hold he has over Jungwoo, who rises from the chair like a puppet in Mark’s court.</p><p>He’s less than a step away but the moment he hesitates, he finds himself dragged forward with Mark’s grip tight on his belt. He’s pulled almost flush with Mark’s body and the sudden heat that he feels coming off Mark’s thighs make his head spin. </p><p>He catches himself with a palm on the surface of the desk and Mark tips his head, lips parted.</p><p>No hesitation, just Mark Lee petting where his dress shirt covers his ribs, too thin to not feel every dip of a fingertip, the hot press of both palms. He is so, so warm.</p><p>Jungwoo shuts his eyes and drops his head to Mark’s shoulder as he’s shushed with a palm smoothing over his back. Jungwoo can feel the heat here, rising above the loose hood of Mark sweater. It’s effortless to breath him in, smell the faded cologne and laundry detergent.</p><p>“Is this okay?” Mark asks. </p><p>Nose pressed into Mark’s hair, Jungwoo whispers <i>yes</i> and Mark tilts his chin up and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It is so slow, so tentative. He feels the air over his cheeks as Mark breathes in through his nose. His lips feel smooth, pursed against Jungwoo’s skin.</p><p>Heart beating painfully hard against his chest, Jungwoo allows his eyes to slide shut. He shivers with restraint, tenderness coiling in his chest and with a small sound, he tilts his head and crowds Mark more surely against the desk. Their lips lock, fitting together just so.</p><p>It’s fucking heaven. Fucking perfect. </p><p>Mark leads, so entirely devoid of shyness. His possessive grip at Jungwoo’s waist pulls a helpless whimper from him before Jungwoo even has a chance to swallow it down. Mark chases the sound away, pulling back briefly to look at him, eyes narrowed as he stares at the flush of blood in his bitten lips. He hums, licking into Jungwoo’s mouth as he tugs his shirt from his jeans. </p><p>Reluctantly, Jungwoo breaks their kiss, breathless and heaving.</p><p>“Oh-h, fuck, Markie— here?” His voice catches when Mark smooths a palm down over the front of his tight jeans, fearless. His cock jumps against the shape of Mark’s hand, interested, and they both look down to watch the aborted thrusts Jungwoo’s hips make when Mark squeezes him.</p><p>“I’ve been fucking frustrated, watching you dance around me. And especially since that night…” his palm slows it’s lazy movements, but doesn’t stop. Jungwoo burns with remembrance.</p><p>“Do you know what I did, when I heard what you were doing?” Mark whispers, deadly. Jungwoo doesn’t bother to speak. The dark, narrowed gaze dancing between his own eyes tells him Mark <i>wants</i> to tell him.</p><p>“I stuffed my fingers into my mouth, so you wouldn’t hear me. Woo… I could barely get my fingers inside quick enough. Every time I made a sound, I worried you’d hear. It made me so <i>hard</i>—“</p><p>Jungwoo kisses him, too-hard, lips curled in a snarl. And oh— Mark <i>likes</i> that. He tugs Jungwoo closer by the top of his jeans, and they fold together easily again, Jungwoo’s touches more firm, more sure.</p><p>“So I’m sorry I’m having a hard time controlling myself…” Mark whispers against his lips, tone innocent even as the outline of his cock surges against the front of his jeans, hard against Jungwoo’s own. “Because all I can think about is sucking your cock.”</p><p>“<i>Mark</i>!” Jungwoo lets out with a breath, even as Mark begins to kiss along his jaw. God, it feels fucking good, and he bites back the groan Mark nearly pulls from him. The kisses slow, and Mark parts his lips and sucks, just barely. He doesn’t go far, meandering. Tasting Jungwoo with his tongue flattened against his throat. Jungwoo finds his fingers twisted into Mark’s hoodie.</p><p>“Is it too fast?” Rumbled against his jaw. Mark pulls back to watch him, wants to be sure. Jungwoo already misses the hot press of his mouth.</p><p>It <i>is</i> fast, but his body seems to be just fine following Mark’s lead. Struggling to breath, he only shakes his head to Mark’s question and crosses his arms behind Mark’s shoulders, pulling him in close again. </p><p>“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, running his nose along Mark’s.</p><p>“We’ll see,” Mark murmurs, thumb devilishly running over the shape of Jungwoo’s cock through denim.</p><p>“Fuck, god-“ </p><p>They kiss, hard and wet and slow, until Jungwoo feels like his knees will give out. His body thrums with want, desperation. In the back of his mind, he’s distantly aware that someone could walk in on them, a weekend worker or cleaner, but Mark delicately worrying his lips with his teeth is an adequate distraction.</p><p>He pops the buttons of Jungwoo’s shirt one at a time and his touch is reverent when he runs a palm from Jungwoo’s sternum to the top of his jeans. Jungwoo’s mind supplies the colourful memory of his own daydreams; Mark’s starched button up parting under his fingertips, the rise of his chest when Jungwoo's mouth closed over a sensitive bud, the way he'd throw his arm over his eyes and suck in a breath. His fingers would tighten so hard in Jungwoo's hair.</p><p>The possession in his touch now, the heat in his eyes, takes Jungwoo’s breath away. It throws into stark contrast how one-dimensional he’d made Mark out to be in his mind. Mark in real life is fierce, determined. He knows what he wants and he <i>takes</i>.</p><p>Staring at the heat darkening Mark’s cheek, Jungwoo realizes there’s so much he hasn’t accounted for. The quiet control in his grip. How easily he commands Jungwoo’s whole being with his lips trailing along the column of his throat. Peeling the shirt back from his shoulders so he can press promises across Jungwoo’s collarbone.</p><p>“So pretty, Woo…” he whispers and Jungwoo’s toes curl at the <i>tone</i>. He’s helpless, pliant when Mark tugs the shirt from his arms and drops it on the floor. His mouth trails up his exposed throat, hot, and Jungwoo leans into him again.</p><p>“God you taste so fucking good... I’ve thought so long about kissing you here and touching you <i>here</i>-”</p><p>Mark goes silent when Jungwoo’s palm slides smooth and firm along his neck. He watches the way Mark's clever words die on his lips as his eyelids droop. He breathes in through his nose, and the tremble of his lips draw Jungwoo's eye. He doesn’t squeeze, or even circle his neck, only rubs his thumb up and down, drawing the shape of Mark’s jaw up behind his ear. Mark is so still, and Jungwoo takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of him.</p><p>He’s painfully hard now, the shape of him almost obscene beneath creased denim. Jungwoo slides his free hand along one thigh, fingertips dipping into the torn fabric, sliding along warm skin and Mark <i>moans</i>, shameless in his pleasure.</p><p>Jungwoo loves him even more for it.</p><p>He slides a searching palm under Mark’s hoodie, pushing the fluorescent cotton up until he can see his bared torso. There’s the subtle landscape of his abs and then just above the top of his ripped jeans, the black band of his underwear. Jungwoo’s mouth waters.</p><p>Spurred into action, he dips his mouth to press a kiss against Mark’s sternum, spreading his palms hot over Mark’s waist as he noses under his hoodie. All Jungwoo feels are goosebumps and the gentle list of Mark’s ribs as he sucks in a breath. Looking down, he sees how Mark tents his jeans and lifts his hips under his touch. His heart thuds heavily in his chest at the sight.</p><p>“Okay?” He asks, as he pops the top button of Mark’s jeans. </p><p>Nodding emphatically, Mark leans back on his hands and lifts his hips so Jungwoo can pull the zipper and tug the tight jeans from his legs. In a pair of simple black shorts, he’s a vision stretched back on his glass desk with his pale legs spread. His eyes are hungry and Jungwoo is reeled back in, hands circling his waist beneath the ridiculous fluorescent glow  of the hoodie.</p><p>“Small,” he whispers, husky, squeezing Mark’s sides. </p><p>Mark’s gaze darkens, impossibly so.</p><p>“You sound— fuck, so <i>good</i>-“ Mark bares his teeth and presses them against Jungwoo’s jaw again, hissing when Jungwoo slides his palm along the top of Mark’s thigh, resting in the crease of his leg. Impatient, Mark reaches between them to move Jungwoo’s touch where he wants it, and they both sigh when Mark rocks hard and insistent into his palm. The friction is beautiful and Mark isn’t shy, finding the shape of him through his own restricting jeans and pawing at him in return. </p><p>It's dizzying, to feel Mark hard in his grip. To feel him respond to the way Jungwoo explores the shape of him. He wants to take Mark into his mouth, but when he glances up, it's hard not to be distracted by the way Mark is watching him, eyes glazed. Hungry, dangerous.</p><p>He tilts his head and Jungwoo leans in to meet him, pulling Mark's bottom lip between his teeth as he more firmly takes hold of Mark through his shorts. Mark's lips tremble, the first sign of weakness he's shown in as long as Jungwoo can remember. Jungwoo repeats the movement, running his thumb over the head of Mark's cock and <i>feeling</i> the way his cock bounces, the cotton becoming slick.</p><p>He pulls back, eyes raking over the raw emotion written on Mark's face. The punched-out look, bruised lips and heavy eyes. Cheeks littered with barely-there freckles and a heat that reaches his ears. Hair askew, sweater bunched up on his stomach.</p><p>Not content to simply be watched, Mark spreads his legs and hauls Jungwoo close with a knee tucked behind his thigh.</p><p>“Will you please let me suck you, please--” he babbles, eyes locked to the bitten skin of Jungwoo’s lips like he’s entranced, stuck in a dream. He keeps Jungwoo held tight against him, and rocks his cock against the crease of Jungwoo’s leg. Their lengths brush and Jungwoo has to blink slowly through the pleasure, teeth grit as his fingers curl around Mark’s waist.</p><p>“God, Mark, is that really what you want?” Their eyes meet and Mark sees the helplessness in him, sees how powerless he’s become under each of Mark’s own wants and needs. It’s exactly where he belongs, after everything he’s put them both through. Still, it’s more than that. </p><p>When Mark drops his legs, searching for the floor with his socked feet, the expression on his face commands Jungwoo like nothing else ever has. His hand is firm when he urges Jungwoo back, back into his chair. Down, to sit, and welcome Mark into his arms.</p><p>Mark licks into his mouth before he’s even fully settled in Jungwoo’s lap, and they both groan at the feeling. Mark’s thighs fall either side of Jungwoo’s hips and he settles himself as close as he can, mouth curled sinfully against Jungwoo's own.</p><p>Mark kisses him within an inch of his life and by the time Mark’s done with him, he’s begun to wonder if he might actually learn what its like to come from a fucking kiss. His hair is a complete wreck, tugged out of place and landing like a fan over his eyes. His lips, and the skin around them, are bitten red and slick. His throat and chest are littered with small bite marks and bruises from kisses and his erection is an obvious line in the front of his jeans.</p><p>The constriction <i>hurts</i>, he's so hard, and when they part for breath he can't help but reach down to re-adjust himself. Kissing Mark is definitely his new kryptonite-- when Mark reaches down to cover Jungwoo's hand with his own, he thinks about how Mark wants to suck his cock, and he's quite sure the moment Mark's tongue touches his cock it's going to be over very quickly.</p><p>"Sit still..." Mark murmurs, stepping back out of his lap. His cock is pressing against the elastic band of his boxers and Jungwoo's mouth waters for him, too.</p><p>He pops the buttons of Jungwoo's jeans, but instead of beginning to pull them down, he parts the fly and presses his face in, pressing his mouth over the shape of Jungwoo's erection.</p><p>Jungwoo makes a punched-out noise and curls forward, but Mark reaches a hand up to slap against his chest and <i>pushes</i>. He hits the back of the chair hard and gasps, legs falling open helplessly as Mark slowly gets to his knees in front of him.</p><p>"Sit still," Mark repeats, and this time his breath is hot over the exposed skin beneath Jungwoo's bellybutton as Mark innocently peels back the elastic of his shorts.</p><p>It's nearly impossible to look directly at Mark as it happens. He pulls his boxers down, down, beneath his cock, beneath his testicles drawn up towards his body. Jungwoo's cock springs up, delighted to be free, and nudges against Mark's chin. Eyes wide, he stares down the line of his own body, frozen still as his cock bobs before Mark's face.</p><p>"<i>Ohhh--</i>" Mark comments, tone choked. His lips part, and he tilts his chin up, chasing the swaying head of Jungwoo's cock with his tongue extended. Jungwoo could <i>cry</i>.</p><p>He can't tell if Mark is just drunk from lust or playing with him just to watch him suffer, but the way he dumbly follows after Jungwoo's cock makes it harder to swallow back the pleasure that’s been tightening further and further in his gut. Jungwoo is mostly a visual person, and this visual is something his brain wouldn't have ever been able to truly provide for him.</p><p>Mark's skin is dark and warm and lit only with the city light in the dark office, his eyes glittering when he looks up at Jungwoo with his tongue extended. Neon lights bloom outdoors and cast across Mark's hair and Jungwoo follows it with his fingers, sliding into the short hairs at the base of Mark's skull and holding him <i>still</i>.</p><p>With his free hand he guides the head of his cock to Mark's lips. With pride and appreciation shining in Mark's eyes, he hums, and batting Jungwoo's hand out of the way, curls his own fingers around the base of Jungwoo's cock.</p><p>His eyelids fall, and he <i>sucks</i>, and Jungwoo starts to hear alarm bells.</p><p>His fingers curl into Mark's hair, dark strands threading through his fingers, and the image of Mark working himself down, down to where the V of Jungwoo's jeans part, is enough to make Jungwoo utter a warning.</p><p>"You're incredible..." Jungwoo whispers, voice tight and shaking. "I won't last..." His thumb runs over the hollow of Mark's cheek and Mark sucks harder, swallowing and urging himself down further than Jungwoo would have ever expected. When he pulls back, it's to take a shuddering breath and kitten-lick at the head of Jungwoo's cock, where precome continuously beads and spills across Mark's tongue.</p><p>"Seriously, Markie, I'm close," He whimpers. Mark pulls away, eyes shut as he reaches down to where Jungwoo can't see. He knows Mark is touching himself, and he swears steam will come out of his ears, how badly he burns with that knowledge.</p><p>"Me too," He says, voice wrecked and lips wet against the swell of Jungwoo's cock. The muscles of his shoulder and arm bunch, and Jungwoo whimpers when he straightens up to see that Mark has his bare cock in his hand, squeezing the head and moaning.</p><p>"Not fair..." Jungwoo frowns, fingers curling behind Mark's ear. "I want to make you come."</p><p>"Oh don't worry, you will." Mark promises, and takes the head of Jungwoo's cock back into his mouth. They both moan at the contact, and Mark's voice makes Jungwoo feel like his nerves will vibrate right out of his body.</p><p>He watches Mark take him with abandon, accepting so much of him, Jungwoo swollen and stretching his lips. He's fisting his cock beneath the chair, pace fast, whimpering as his orgasm gallops towards him.</p><p>One second Jungwoo is right on the edge and the next, Mark is tonguing under the head of his cock, and his resolve breaks like a dam. </p><p>Mark sucks him so prettily, and Jungwoo cries out, come spilling and pooling on Mark’s tongue. It collects at the back of Mark's throat for him to swallow and he does so eagerly, moaning in encouragement as Jungwoo thickens and twitches against his lips.</p><p>Jungwoo watches through the haze of his own orgasm as Mark stills, teetering on the edge. One second he's got his eyes squeezed shut and his tongue runs restlessly over Jungwoo's softening cock and then next he's coming, whimpering with come still in his mouth as he releases over his fingers and across the carpet.</p><p>"Markie, I've got you," Jungwoo whispers, urging Mark's lips to part with a thumb and Mark releases him with an audible <i>pop</i>. Mark shakes, gasping against the tacky skin of Jungwoo's thigh as he wrings out the last few drops of pleasure. Perspiration catches neon pink and green on the top of his cheeks, and Jungwoo trails his fingertips there, pushing damp hair back from Mark's face.</p><p>"You look really pretty like that, when you come..." he comments, feeling absolutely annihilated. He can barely raise his arms, but when Mark delicately tucks him back into his jeans, he accepts his lithe body as Mark slides back into his lap. He's tucked his own cock back into his little black shorts, and Jungwoo handles him gently when Mark settles against his chest, face turned into his neck.</p><p>Something thumps anxiously in Jungwoo's chest, and against his better judgement, he decides to verbalize it.</p><p>"I have to be upfront with you about something." He presses the words into Mark's temple like a prayer.</p><p>When Mark sits up a little to look at him, it's with a slightly annoyed look, and Jungwoo cracks a smile, bashful.</p><p>"Seems a little late, doesn't it?" Mark murmurs, toying with the strands of hair that curl behind Jungwoo's ears. "Is it important?" </p><p>Jungwoo can't help but see his prickliness and feel warmth bloom in his chest. Compelled, he cups Mark's hand in his face, and he loves this, how Mark fits against him like a perfect puzzle piece.</p><p>"Perhaps..." Jungwoo doesn’t know which question he's addressing, but it doesn’t matter.</p><p>"I think I'm falling in love with you... Or. I might be--" He squints a little. "Already in love with you?"</p><p>His thumb runs restlessly along the top of Mark's cheek. He anxiously searches Mark's gaze for any indication that he's been too truthful.</p><p>"Yeah," Mark says instead, leaning in. His eyes drop to Jungwoo's mouth. "Me too."</p><p>Wonder grows like a flower in Jungwoo's chest, and he parts his lips to accept Mark when he comes in for the kill. </p><p>He kisses Jungwoo slowly, sensually, taking pieces of him and stamping them with his own mark. The taste of Jungwoo on his tongue is <i>his</i>, the small huffs of pleasure between their parted lips are for <i>him</i>. His fingers dragging down Jungwoo's chest travel a possessive line down until they can dig into his waist. <i>Fuck</i>, Jungwoo feels good beneath him. Claimed, bared to him. He is Mark’s.</p><p>For the second time that day, Jungwoo feels undone by Mark’s kiss. His lips feel bruised, and his stomach feels empty, like he’s running only on the heady feeling of Mark’s touch. </p><p>They eventually slow down, and Mark sits back on his thighs to look at him. He runs his fingers over Jungwoo’s chest, his abs, and back up. He looks exhausted. Cheeks pink, hair askew. His lips are perfectly swollen and slick, and even with the tired look in his eye, Jungwoo gets the sense that Mark’s not done with him yet. </p><p>Even if that’s the case, they need to eat, sleep, rest-- something. Jungwoo feels like all the energy has been sucked right out of him.</p><p>“Come back to mine for a bit?” Mark asks. Jungwoo might feel completely at his mercy, but he doesn’t miss the anxiety clinging to Mark’s words.</p><p>“If I do,” Jungwoo warns, tipping Mark’s chin up to look him in the eye. “It will be very hard to get rid of me.”</p><p>“That’s the plan,” Mark chirps, rolling his eyes. Through the mirth, he sees the look in Jungwoo’s eyes, and leans in to snatch a quick kiss from the corner of his mouth.</p><p>“Be my boyfriend, Kim Jungwoo.” Mark says, narrowing his eyes in challenge. Jungwoo could kill him.</p><p>“You’re unbelievable.” He says, eyebrows raised. Mark smirks.</p><p>“Is that a no?”</p><p>With a huff, Jungwoo sags into the chair, palm running softly in the hip of Mark’s waist, hidden beneath the well-wrinkled fluorescent yellow sweater. He wants nothing more than to see it off of him, to see Mark spread out across his own bed so Jungwoo can take him apart piece by piece and show him exactly how deeply he feels for him. He wants to feel Mark’s heartbeat against his lips. He wants to whisper his love over every inch of skin like a promise.</p><p>“You’re mine…” He responds, serious and tender. </p><p>Mark can see the emotion glimmering in his eyes, and takes his chin between his thumb and forefinger. There is no uncertainty in his eyes as he tilts Jungwoo’s face up to meet him.</p><p>“No,” he says, a steadfast promise in his tone. “You’re <i>mine</i>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter 2 is a smutty epilogue~ Enjoy!</p><p>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark’s apartment is handsome and complex in all the same ways Mark is.</p>
<p>Sun-warmed hardwood floors and towering ferns. Shuttered blinds that just let in a few streams of sunlight. Jungwoo stares up at the particles that glow and hang in the air. The fluffy white duvet smells like warm cotton and detergent and just barely like Mark himself.</p>
<p>He wakes to the soft press of Mark’s body against his own, languid and warm with sleep. He’s rested well, both of them have. After a quick cab ride Mark had shown him into his apartment, and Jungwoo had tried to catalogue everything that told him more about the man he loved, but it was short-lived before Mark was tugging him to bed, complaining about needing rest.</p>
<p>It was innocent, only Mark stripping him of his wrinkled clothing before he was curling at Jungwoo’s side and tugging the duvet over them both. In the dark, with only the gentle glow of a small aquarium in the corner of the room, Jungwoo had fallen asleep fast. Mark’s heartbeat was steady against his own ribs and lulled by the familiarity, he drifted.</p>
<p>Now, he wakes with his heart filled to the brim. The lazy trail Mark’s fingertips make on his stomach is as good a wake-up call as any cup of coffee. He stretches an arm up and around Mark’s shoulders, tugging him close so Mark’s indignant huff of breath is muffled against his skin.</p>
<p>“Mmm,” He murmurs, nosing at Mark’s temple. His hand slides down, down his shoulder and his back, to settle into the curve of his waist and Mark <i>tenses</i>, pressing close as he swings a thigh over Jungwoo’s waist.</p>
<p>“You woke up in some kind of way, didn’t you?” Jungwoo teases, and Mark only groans, tilting his chin to press a kiss to Jungwoo’s jaw. Lazily, he explores the skin there, nipping just beneath Jungwoo’s chin, before his face folds into the juncture of his shoulder, and then it’s slow, open-mouthed kisses that begin a path up Jungwoo’s neck.</p>
<p>Mark is less mouthy when he first wakes up, Jungwoo notes. He’s less <i>everything</i>, Jungwoo thinks, remembering countless early mornings arriving at work to see Mark blearily scrolling through his phone, slowly and quietly observing everything around him as he works through his first morning coffee. It’s not usually until almost ten before he’s finally finding his stride.</p>
<p>The one thing Jungwoo hasn’t prepared for is that Mark might be quiet, but he isn’t shy. His hands explore him boldly and his kisses become sultry, Mark unmistakably turned on as he presses his morning erection to Jungwoo’s hip.</p>
<p>“Fuck me here, please--” He whispers the words against Jungwoo’s jaw and the words burn. Excitement and fear both tighten Jungwoo’s chest. Even as Mark explores him unhurriedly, there's intent in each of his touches. He’s hard, and so, so turned on. Jungwoo’s heart jumps up into his throat.</p>
<p>“Markie, fuck, you want me to?” he asks. The small huff Mark lets out tells him Mark thinks it’s too early to be needing to repeat directions.</p>
<p>Mark's kiss is deadly. Slow, sinful. His touch drags down Jungwoo’s front until he can curl his fingers over the shape of him, half-hard and thickening quickly in Mark’s grip.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Mark mutters against his lips and <i>fuck</i> Jungwoo loves it when he says that, so casual. <i>Yeah</i>. Okay, fuck, he thinks. He will-- he’ll undo the man beneath him, bit by bit, until his resolve crumbles. Until he’s chanting Jungwoo’s name like it’s a prayer in the quiet of the early morning.</p>
<p>The perk of Mark’s ass fits perfectly into his palm, and Jungwoo grips him there, squeezing to see how much of Mark can really fit into his hand. He chases the moan this draws from Mark’s lips, and then he’s releasing and gripping Mark again, hard, like he wants to hear what sounds Mark will make.</p>
<p>“Ohh-- do it,” Mark urges, pushing himself up fully into Jungwoo’s lap. His thighs fall either side of Jungwoo’s and then Mark is kissing him again, moaning into his mouth as Jungwoo’s palm lightly strikes the lowest curve of Mark’s ass. He jolts, whining into Jungwoo’s mouth. His erection is a hot brand against Jungwoo’s stomach.</p>
<p>Jungwoo curses, struggling with Mark’s shorts, desperately trying to push them down his legs even as Mark wriggles in his lap, too turned-on and too sleepy to stop rocking against him.</p>
<p>“Gotta slow down,” Jungwoo whispers, holding Mark’s chin as he pulls back. His other hand is still tangled in Mark’s boxers, having tugged them only halfway down one thigh, but Mark hasn’t been helping, grinding down against Jungwoo’s own cock trapped against his stomach.</p>
<p>“Come on--” Mark coos, balancing with a hand on Jungwoo’s chest as he continues to roll his hips. He already looks dazed, still sleepy and chasing his pleasure.</p>
<p>“No,” Jungwoo says firmly, and with a yelp, Mark finds himself face-down in the pillows. Jungwoo holds his wrists together with one hand, and settles his body down over Mark’s. His mouth finds a place to land right behind Mark’s ear, and he presses a kiss there, breathing him in. </p>
<p>“<i>Yes</i>,” Mark hisses, grinning into the pillow. He’s entirely relaxed, body curved beautifully beneath Jungwoo’s as he turns his head, searching for a kiss. He likes this, the weight of Jungwoo on top of him.</p>
<p>“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Jungwoo hums, trailing kisses along Mark’s jaw but refusing to give him what he wants. Mark isn’t as pushy, so different in the light of early morning. He reaches for Jungwoo with everything he has; his gaze soft and glittering, his expression open and honest. The way he bites his lip and presses his cheek into the pillow makes Jungwoo feel like Mark could undo him with a look.</p>
<p>He trails a hand over Mark’s nape, pushing his fingertips into the soft strands of hair at the top of Mark’s spine and securing his mouth there. A hot, dry kiss, trailed just over the knob of his vertebrae. Mark sucks in a breath, and Jungwoo continues down, following the path of his fingers with his mouth.</p>
<p>When he reaches the lowest point of Mark’s waist, he digs his thumbs in, and Mark <i>mewls</i> as Jungwoo eases away some of the tension that resides there. His fingers catch again in the band of Mark’s underwear and he slowly begins to drag them down Mark’s legs, kissing each exposed stretch of skin. First-- the globe of his ass, where he unapologetically sinks his teeth. Gentle, just dragging over the surface of his skin. He follows with hot kisses that make Mark restless when they trail to the crease of his thigh.</p>
<p>Each new inch of skin that’s exposed receives Jungoo’s complete attention. He’s nearly bucked off when he nips at the sensitive stretch of Mark’s inner thigh, and so he soothes over the skin there with his tongue and keeps moving, finally tugging Mark’s boxers over his feet and tossing them across the room. Jungwoo drops a kiss here, too, pressing his lips chaste to the curve of one ankle. </p>
<p>Mark twists on the bed, glancing over his shoulder at him, and the look Jungwoo drags up his body makes his cheeks glow against the white pillows. Jungwoo hums and begins his ascent, caging Mark in as he begins an innocent trail of kisses up the back of one knee.</p>
<p>Mark knows better, but he still can’t hold back the whimper when Jungwoo nudges his thighs apart and settles between them. His touch is so hot, palms smoothing over the sensitive skin between his legs and Mark feels a spark of heat settle in his stomach. He’s <i>exposed</i>, back curved, ass in the air as Jungwoo pulls him up with fingers gripping his hip.</p>
<p>He has almost no warning, and then Jungwoo is <i>there</i>, kissing at the crease of his thigh again. Mark nearly jolts when fingers curl hot and wicked around his cock that hangs dark and heavy between his legs.</p>
<p>“Woo…” Mark breathes, and then his back is arching, voice breaking as Jungwoo drags his tongue flat over his opening. </p>
<p>The sound Mark makes is heaven, winding Jungwoo up further, and so he presses in again, fingers of his free hand gripping the flesh of Mark’s ass to pull him open.</p>
<p>His thumb dips in towards his opening and presses, tugging Mark open, and that’s where Jungwoo slips his tongue. He presses in as far as he can, and it’s not far, but Mark tightens down on him anyway. It’s like lightning, the zip down his spine as Mark moans wantonly and claws at the sheets.</p>
<p>“Woo, yes, like that,” he praises, and then it's Jungwoo’s turn to be shocked as Mark’s reaches behind him and sinks his fingers into his hair and <i>tugs</i>.</p>
<p>Jungwoo groans, lapping at Mark’s opening before pressing in again, holding him open as far as he dares as Mark shakes and tries to fuck back on his tongue. His grip in Jungwoo’s hair almost hurts, but it’s perfect. So, so perfect. Mark’s cock thickens in his grip and that’s when he notices Mark whispering into his pillow, chanting a steady chorus of <i>oh my god oh my god oh my god</i>. </p>
<p>He pulls back and Mark takes in a shuddered breath, chest heaving against the sheets. With barely time to catch his breath, Jungwoo slides two fingers between Mark’s cheeks, running over his opening, exploring.</p>
<p>“Oh my god-” Mark breathes again, more audibly, and the barest sheen of sweat makes the base of his spine glow. Jungwoo leans up to press a kiss there, tasting the salt of his skin as he dips just the tips of his fingers inside. </p>
<p>Mark wobbles on his spread knees, and Jungwoo urges him down onto his stomach, thighs together. The small, searching kisses Jungwoo presses up his spine are each a praise. His cock is trapped against the sheets, but he doesn’t mind, revelling in the delicious feeling of being pinned. All he can think about is the way Jungwoo’s fingers are slipping between his cheeks, parting him open so filthily.</p>
<p>Hovering over him, Jungwoo watches the tips of his fingers disappear inside Mark’s hungry opening and he can’t help it-- it comes to him like an impulse, and he doesn’t fight it. He palms Mark open with his hands on his cheeks and spits against his opening. </p>
<p>Mark starts, sucking in a breath, and then Jungwoo’s fingers are sinking into the first knuckle-- two at a time-- and Mark is babbling helplessly into the sheets, pillows long since thrown out of reach.</p>
<p>“Baby,” Jungwoo whispers against his skin, and he’s just trying it out. Now, it feels right. Maybe later it won't. Maybe later Mark won’t be baby, won’t be trying to spread his thighs so Jungwoo can press deeper, won’t be leaking precome all over the sheets as he begs for Jungwoo’s cock. The way he squeezes around Jungwoo’s fingers is like a promise.</p>
<p>“Do you have any lube?” Jungwoo asks, sucking a mark into the skin at the base of Mark’s neck. He slows the movement of his fingers, not wanting to go further until he’s sure they have real lube, that he can work Mark open as well as he wants to.</p>
<p>Mark flops an arm out towards the side-table, and Jungwoo frees his fingers so he can climb half over Mark’s body to rummage in the small drawer. He’s indiscriminate about his saliva-slicked fingerprints on the duvet cover, but he knows Mark’s already left a trail of precome in the cotton, and that it’ll be messier, still, before they are done.</p>
<p>Mark turns in the sheets, face tilted towards him and Jungwoo settles back, small bottle of lube in hand.</p>
<p>“Hello,” he says, poised over Mark’s waist. An unreadable expression on his face, Mark reaches for him, and Jungwoo leans in, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss, slow and searching.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Mark responds, when they part. There’s a sudden shyness to him, and Jungwoo is drawn in. Suddenly all that matters in the small space between them, the breath they share.</p>
<p>Mark’s hands have begun to explore with more intent, and soon he’s stripping Jungwoo of his only article of clothing. His boxers are discarded, somewhere they’ll be forgotten, and Jungwoo’s arousal curves proudly towards his stomach. </p>
<p>It feels safe to be nude like this with Mark, in the safety of his bedroom, pressed into the warmth of his sheets. With his posture so open, Mark can’t help but explore him a little, fingertips trailing precome around the head of his cock.</p>
<p>“Like this,” Mark says, facing him, and he turns to Jungwoo on his side, lifting his knee up to curve over Jungwoo’s waist. He fits perfectly there, and his other leg stretches out along the bed. He’s exposed, again, and intimately aware of the hot brand of Jungwoo’s cock where it nudges just inside the crease of his thigh.</p>
<p>“Touch me.”</p>
<p>Mark doesn’t have to ask twice. </p>
<p>Jungwoo coats his fingers with lube and affords himself only a handful of seconds for it to warm before he’s slipping his hand down between them, skirting around Mark’s cock, and pressing between his legs. Mark accepts him with barely a sound, the lube easing the way, and soon he’s whimpering as Jungwoo’s knuckles settle against his ass.</p>
<p>“I don’t need much,” Mark assures, but he’s got a deathgrip around Jungwoo, who pushes past the initial resistance and curls his fingers towards himself, searching. </p>
<p>Mark is eerily silent when Jungwoo rubs right along his prostate, but then his body twists, teeth clenched. Jungwoo backs off and Mark hauls in a loud breath. Under the sun filtering into his bedroom, he looks like a painting. His hair spreads like ink across the white sheets, and the heat that warms the freckles on his cheeks shifts from peach to rose as he turns in the light.</p>
<p>“This is quite the angle…” Jungwoo muses, curling his fingers again. Mark’s cock bounces and drools against his stomach in response. The sheets between them are sticky, but Jungwoo wouldn’t dare consider stopping now. He eases his fingers out before pressing back against Mark’s opening with three. It’s immediately too much, and he can tell by the way Mark clamps down on him.</p>
<p>“Why’d you stop?” Mark questions, even though his voice is tight. He tries to lift his leg higher over Jungwoo’s waist in an attempt to take in more of him, but Jungwoo holds him at bay.</p>
<p>“I haven’t,” Jungwoo responds simply, but his fingers are barely moving, barely pressing inside.</p>
<p>“More--” Mark begs, breath hot against Jungwoo’s cheek. He’s fully awake now, and his impatience is returning. Jungwoo presses in deeper to satisfy him, and the burn makes Mark shiver, all complaints dying on his lips.</p>
<p>“What do you think?” Jungwoo whispers against his lips, and sinks three fingers in to the second knuckle. He moves slowly, Mark’s lips trembling against his own as he attempts to relax around the intrusion.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he says, nodding and his eyes are so dark where they meet Jungwoo’s.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Jungwoo mirrors, because it’s steadily becoming his most beloved Mark line. </p>
<p>He pulls his fingers free and trails a line of lube up Mark’s thigh, earning him a glare for the mess but Jungwoo only chuckles against his cheek, searching blindly for the small tube of lube so he can tip some into his palm.</p>
<p>Mark watches him, expression open and considering as Jungwoo presses into his own fist, slicking himself from tip to base. It feels too good, after so long of being on edge, and he must wear how perilously close he is on his face, because Mark kisses him again, soft, like he’s trying to help him find his sanity. He’s nipping at his bottom lip when Jungwoo lines himself up and the feeling of the blunt head of his cock catching against Mark’s opening has them both slowing, foreheads topped together.</p>
<p>There’s resistance, and Jungwoo can feel how Mark is breathing through it, desperately trying to stay relaxed, pushing back against him as Jungwoo presses in. The angle is wicked, Mark’s body strung unapologetically tight.</p>
<p>“Jesus,” he gasps, and Jungwoo swallows the whine that gathers on his tongue. He holds Mark still with a firm grip on his waist and eases forward into the unforgiving heat of his body.</p>
<p>Even with the firm grip Jungwoo has on his waist, Mark controls the pace. He wraps his own arm behind Jungwoo’s back and curls his fingers over his shoulder, leveraging himself forward to take as much of Jungwoo as he can.</p>
<p>The pressure is electric, Mark squeezing him like a vice grip. He hungrily watches where they’re joined, where he disappears into Mark’s tight body, but he doesn’t dare move.</p>
<p>Hot breath pants against his throat, and Mark’s fingertips dig into his shoulder with bruising strength.</p>
<p>Jungwoo wills his heart to stop racing, and Mark leans in, his kiss like a balm. They both relax slowly, and Mark focuses on the kiss, on the sounds Jungwoo makes. His cock is hot as a brand inside of him, heavy and swollen against Mark’s entrance. The idea of moving even an inch seems like a far-off idea.</p>
<p>Mark’s kisses grow more daring, his tongue exploring, searching for Jungwoo’s own, and that’s when he starts to move. He forces himself, blinking past the initial ache and finding it possible, to take Jungwoo inside, to pull him close.</p>
<p>Jungwoo eases back slowly and then he’s rolling his hips back in, and Mark whines with the terrible ache of him. They’ve only just begun and Mark’s thigh is shaking, trembling against Jungwoo’s ribs.</p>
<p>“I’ve got you,” he says, and smoothes his palm up Mark’s back, keeping their pace slow. Mark is silent, but he nods, breathless. He starts down his nose with dark eyes, holding Jungwoo’s face in his hands as they start a gentle rhythm. </p>
<p>Jungwoo’s smile is blinding, tender, and Mark’s heart pangs. His thumbs smooth restlessly over the curve of Jungwoo’s cheeks as he kisses him, pouring all of his emotion into the lock of their lips as Jungwoo rocks deep into him. </p>
<p>Mark’s body accepts him, but the angle does fiendish things to them both. Every time Jungwoo sinks in, it feels like Mark is clamping down on him, squeezing him from base to tip. Mark feels full to bursting, his own cock weeping steadily, pressed between their stomachs as the head of Jungwoo’s cock razes over his prostate over and over.</p>
<p>It feels so good, too hot and burning and pleasure like an electric rope, twisting over Mark’s body. His cock bounces against his stomach, the only warning before Jungwoo thrusts hard and he whites out, shivering and pulsing between them. Pleasure crests and narrows down to an impossible focus and Jungwoo fucks him through it, rocking persistently into that place deep inside of him. Mark <i>wails</i>, wrung out as his cock seeps against his stomach.</p>
<p>Jungwoo kisses him aimlessly, whimpering as Mark’s body spasms around him. The first wave of Mark’s body tightening around him punches a sound out of him- something broken and low-toned. So unnaturally deep and pained and unfamiliar tumbling from Jungwoo’s lips.</p>
<p>The second— Mark lets go, and Jungwoo sinks in deeper on the next thrust. He tips his face into Mark’s neck at the sudden pressure, muffling his cries as he tenses and spills inside of him.</p>
<p>It’s fucking messy, and Jungwoo fucks him through it. Come collects at his opening and spills out, Mark’s legs too far apart to have any hope of holding it in. Hips driving forward in aborted motions, Jungwoo fucks back into him, but as he winds down and his pace slows, there’s little to stop slick from gathering and frothing at Mark’s entrance.</p>
<p>With what appears to be the last bit of his strength, Mark pushes hard at a Jungwoo’s shoulder and he bounces back into the sheets, cock slipping from Mark’s entrance entirely. </p>
<p>Come slips down his thigh, and Mark frowns at the mess, but he still clamours up onto his knees on the bed with an energy that Jungwoo doesn’t possess. His limbs feel like lead.</p>
<p>“What on <i>earth</i> are you doing?” He breathes, reaching for Mark even as he rolls away on the bed, unsteadily finding his feet on the hardwood. He earns a full whine from Jungwoo at that point, and Mark smirks at him, dancing just out of reach when Jungwoo lunges across the bed, arms reaching for him.</p>
<p>“I <i>have</i> to get a shower!” Mark laments. “I smell.” He leans down to grab something off the ground and Jungwoo crawls across the bed like a panther, somehow finding the strength despite the exhaustion in his muscles.</p>
<p>Mark rights himself and Jungwoo catches him around the waist, dragging him back into bed. With a yelp, Mark finds himself folded into Jungwoo’s arms. His breath is hot across Mark’s nape.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you smell like my <i>come</i>,” Jungwoo whispers, and Mark feels goosebumps break out all over his body.</p>
<p>“You’re capable of being way more filthy than I ever gave you credit for,” Mark chuckles, and his hand smoothes over Jungwoo’s arm wound around his stomach. It feels right.</p>
<p>Jungwoo hides his smile in the soft strands of hair behind Mark’s ears. He knows Mark must feel uncomfortably sticky, with come growing tacky on his thighs and sweat drying where he’s pressed right to Jungwoo’s chest, but he’s grateful. Grateful that Mark will allow him this small moment to breath him in before his unexpected energy has him bounding off.</p>
<p>“Love you,” he says. Whispers it at Mark’s pulse point.</p>
<p>“I love you too,” Mark responds, and it’s easy. Jungwoo’s heart clenches and he can’t help but squeeze tighter.</p>
<p>“But only if you come get a shower with me,” Mark intones, twisting sneakily in his grip.</p>
<p>“Get back here-“ Jungwoo teases as Mark tries to slide out of his grip. It’s dangerous— knees and elbows flying everywhere, but Jungwoo soon finds himself rolling to his feet, catching Mark around the middle as he darts around the bed and towards the door.</p>
<p>He settles easily into Jungwoo’s arms as his ankles lock at the small of Jungwoo’s back. He isn’t bashful about his nudity, and Jungwoo pats his exposed ass as he takes unsteady steps towards the hallway, laughing as Mark kisses him with his mouth split in a grin.</p>
<p>“Be my man…” Jungwoo hums, smiling against Mark’s cheek as he walks. His body is warm and solid against his chest, cheeks ablaze, lips red and bitten. He feels the racing of his pulse, too, and they match. </p>
<p>Mark raises a hand to trail fingertips over his cheek, and Jungwoo pauses their trip to the shower, leaning back to watch the emotion well in Mark’s eyes, glittering and hopeful. Jungwoo smiles like it’s nothing and Mark follows the line of it with his thumb, grinning helplessly.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he says.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was such a labour of love. </p><p>I have no idea why it took so long, but I struggled with so much of it. I want Mark to be interesting, and more unpredictable than I've ever written him. I always want him to have a lot of autonomy and to know what he wants, and in this story I want him to really <i>want</i> a lot. To want Jungwoo so badly. To be obsessed with the idea of almost being a sexual plaything for Jungwoo, but to command how he is used, and find power in that. </p><p>I have zero experience writing these types of concepts, so if you've got some info to share (or feedback), please leave a comment, or visit me at my <a href="https://curiouscat.me/prittleceebs">cc</a>.</p><p>I had lots and lots of help from my friends, and I am so grateful to my dearest wife <a href="https://twitter.com/alleywhomst">Alley</a> for giving this a beta before I posted!</p><p>This was actually a prompt (forevery ago) from an anon on cc... Anon, if you're out there and you see this! Come forward! I apologize this took months, but I was grateful for the 'office smut' prompt, and really glad I eventually got this posted! When I first got the prompt, my mind immediately started whirring, and I tapped out almost 4K on my phone in only a couple sittings. What that was ended up being something entirely different, which is what ended up posted today. I re-wrote all of it, and then kept going, and I really love waht I got to post today. ALSO it helped me get something out thats really been holding me back from writing some other stuff (psst: spookfest approacheth).</p><p>Thanks for all who gave me so much support this year for MarkWoo &lt;3</p><p> <a href="https://twitter.com/prittleceebs">twt</a></p><p>
  <a href="https://curiouscat.me/prittleceebs">cc</a>
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